


You and Your New Oven

by Audrey_Lynne



Category: Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001), Hedwig and the Angry Inch - Trask/Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Hedcanons, Oven Technique, Sorry Not Sorry, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3722164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hedwig is overdoing the diva thing, and Yitzhak is not having it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and Your New Oven

**Author's Note:**

> So the lovely tumblr user tommyspeck has these glorious hedcanon fests and I was going through the archive of them one night and...found a certain gem. (http://tommyspeck.tumblr.com/post/104136211088/oh-my-god-hc-hedwig-puts-her-head-in-the-oven) 
> 
> I laughed for two days before I wrote this. 
> 
> I posted it on tumblr back in March, but forgot to upload it here. So...whether you like it or not...
> 
> (Title comes from that time Elton John started improving with an oven manual. It's amazing, and you can see it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8GuI4UUZrmw)

* * *

 

 

In his defense, it was three am, and he hadn't slept in well over twenty-four hours.

 

Hedwig had been on a tear lately, worse than usual for her, and Yitzhak was tired, literally and figuratively. Her latest thing was finding hotels with kitchenettes so she could use her “oven technique” to develop a new sound she was working on. With their budget, this wasn't exactly easy, but the queen wouldn't be satisfied until they'd found one. So search they did, driving on to the next town if necessary. Finally, after midnight, somewhere between Dayton and Columbus, they found one. All seemed well. Ticket sales had been good lately and the prices were reasonable enough they had even managed to get the band their own room next door. And Yitzhak, exhausted, had sunk into bed while Hedwig got familiar with the oven, because unlike _some_ people, he liked to sleep when he could.

 

And then Hedwig had come in, rousing him before he could even nod off. “Get up. We've got to find another place. The acoustics in that oven are _terrible_.”

 

Most sane people would have put their foot down at that point, but those people didn't have to deal with Hedwig. The diva. The force of nature. Phyllis had tried to reason with her, but there had been nothing doing. Somehow they'd gotten a refund on the rooms. Yitzhak suspected it had been in exchange for sexual favors done to the night manager, but he didn't even care. He just wanted to find another damn hotel that would please her so he could go to bed.

 

Columbus, fortunately, had a place that fit the bill, and the price was right. The acoustics were even right. Yitzhak shook his head. Normal people didn't live like this. And he had never asked for normal, never even wanted it. But something a little closer would have been nice, something a little farther removed from a room full of wigs he couldn't touch and a lullaby consisting of his wife singing classic rock songs into an oven. Alas, it was what it was. Even this hell was a step above the life he'd had before, the one he'd begged her to take him from. The lesser of two evils.

 

And then she started screlting, that honest-to-goodness belt that turned into a rock goddess scream, and Yitzhak couldn't take it anymore. He dragged himself out of bed, grabbing a pillow, ready to throw himself upon the mercy of the band in their room. They'd take him in. They always did, on the rare occasions there was enough money for an extra room and they weren't all suffering together. But something in him, whether it was spite or a mischievous streak long denied, pushed him that one step further. He paused, calmly, and turned the oven on before leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

The screaming started about fifteen minutes later. The band had been awake, actually, partying as was their way. Yitzhak still wasn't going to get any sleep, it seemed, but this was less stressful. Skszp snorted at the sound of the first shout, raising an eyebrow at Yitzhak. “What did you do this time?”

 

Yitzhak smirked, taking a sip from the first bottle that was passed to him. “I turned the oven on.”

 

Schlatko laughed, briefly startling the baby, who'd been snoozing in his lap. “You're a dead man. But I salute you.”

 

The angry German ranting grew louder, followed by a pounding on the door. Yitzhak stood, ready to face this one. He'd moved beyond caring, and he figured it was best to get Hedwig into the room before they woke up half the floor and got kicked out of the hotel. “Hello, Hedwig.”

 

She was glaring at him, her wig singed on one side, the faint smell of melted acrylic hair around her. “ _Du verdammtes Arschloch! Was zum Teufel hast du dir gedacht_?”

 

He'd learned enough German to get by and calm her when she went on a tear that wasn't about him, but lately, he'd started responding to her in his own tongue to make a point. “ _Jebeni kuju. Služi li u pravu._ ”

 

Whether the point was taken was highly debatable, but it got her to switch back to English. “You could have _killed me_.”

 

“Only if you were fool enough to stay in there,” he replied, shrugging and taking a drink.

 

“You're just jealous of my success!” Hedwig accused, snatching the bottle that Jacek held out, likely more as a life preserver than a peace offering.

 

_Maybe I wouldn't be if you'd share it with me_ , Yitzhak thought bitterly, but he snorted. He'd made his stand – and, oh, he was going to be paying for it for weeks, but it was worth it. He pushed past her, knowing Hedwig would be quickly mollified now that she had alcohol. A bottle was the quickest way to solve tantrums, both for her and the baby. “I'm going to bed.”

 

“Fine. Don't expect me in anytime soon!” Hedwig snapped.

 

At this point, that was the furthest thing from a threat Yitzhak could have heard. He waved a hand at her dismissively, heading back to their room. To bed, alone, and relative silence. For now, it was all he could ask.

 

 


End file.
